“How will you live?” she appealed. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. “Please stay,” she said briefly. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose. Even Melusine, armed with special knowledge, and the enthusiastic assistance of Jack Kimble’s strong arm, had taken almost half a day to locate the place.
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